


Mine

by sassafrasx



Category: Captive Prince - C. S. Pacat
Genre: Aphrodisiacs, Desperation, Dirty Talk, Drug-Induced Sex, M/M, Manhandling, Omega Verse, Possessive Behavior, Post-Canon, Rain Sex, Wall Sex, Wet Clothing Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-01
Updated: 2016-05-01
Packaged: 2018-06-02 16:50:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,122
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6574228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sassafrasx/pseuds/sassafrasx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Damen, we need to leave. Now,” Laurent hisses in his ear.</p><p>Despite Laurent’s insistence, he’s as cool as always when Damen studies him out of the corner of his eye, an insouciant tumble of limbs and sharp eyes that no one else could ever pull off. There’s a hint of something worrying underneath that innate regalness, however, the skin around his mouth pulled just a fraction too tight, a slight rigidity in the hand at his side, that sets Damen’s senses on high alert.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mine

**Author's Note:**

  * For [shadow_lover](https://archiveofourown.org/users/shadow_lover/gifts).



> Hi shadow_lover! I took a bunch of your requested kinks and threw them together to see what would happen and I hope you enjoy the result. <3

“Damen, we need to leave. _Now_ ,” Laurent hisses in his ear and Damen gives a tight smile to the woman next to him — some minor Veretian noble who’s been droning at him for so long he suspects he’s forgotten her name out of sheer boredom and horror at the prospect of ever having to speak to her again — and excuses himself.

Despite Laurent’s insistence, he’s as cool as always when Damen studies him out of the corner of his eye, an insouciant tumble of limbs and sharp eyes that no one else could ever pull off. There’s a hint of something worrying underneath that innate regalness, however, the skin around his mouth pulled just a fraction too tight, a slight rigidity in the hand at his side, that sets Damen’s senses on high alert.

“What’s wrong?” Damen mutters under his breath, smiling politely at anyone who catches his eye while they make their way out.

“Someone’s put sun thistle in my drink,” Laurent says, only the beginning hints of strain in his voice, which could just as well be shouting if it were anyone else.

It’s only Laurent’s dogged persistence that he learn to be more subtle in court that keeps him from tripping over his own feet in shock and sudden, earth-shattering rage. “ _Fuck_.”

“Yes, I imagine that’s rather the point.” And how Laurent can still manage to sound dry right now Damen can’t even begin to imagine, but his heart has nearly stopped with the twin all-consuming urges to both go back into the hall and interrogate every single person there until he knows whose head needs to be taken for this and to get Laurent as far away as conceivably possible.

Now that they’re in the empty corridor, guards safely at a distance, the smell hits him, unmistakable: freshly peeled clementine and morning dew on spring grass; but it’s heavy and unnatural in a way that makes his gut roil even as his hands twitch with need, not the light teasing scent that had taken Damen months to coax out properly and which he still thrilled at giddily after all this time.

 _He'd_ done that and he would never grow tired of it. Never.

“What could they possibly hope to accomplish? I was with you the entire time and I’d sooner kill every alpha in that hall with my bare hands than let anyone touch you,” Damen growls, but his mind’s already miles away, assessing the corridor around them and the floorplan of the palace with quick military precision, like it’s a battlefield to be conquered — maybe it is.

Laurent laughs tightly. “Oh, I imagine one of the Veretian nobles unhappy with our engagement is behind this. It’s one thing to be ruled by an omega, but quite another when that omega rolls over for an _Akielon_ , didn’t you know? How can I have any control when I let some giant animal of an alpha knot me every day. It's a miracle I can walk, let alone appear in court. Probably hoped to embarrass me, show everyone how weak and pathetic I am when I beg for you.”

His breath is coming faster now, scent furling outward, a strong and heady beacon, and they might not be in the banquet anymore, but Damen can’t let anyone see Laurent like this, he can't. Laurent has spent years delicately pulling his control around himself and Damen won’t let anyone take that from him.

It’s raining outside, a steady drum beat on the ground, and Damen makes a split decision and pushes Laurent out of the closest archway and into the blessedly cool rain. Within seconds Laurent is drenched, water slicking his face, eyes shining brightly beneath wet lashes, and Damen watches in desperate fascination as Laurent licks at the droplets on his lips. His hair’s now plastered to his face and neck, but the scent will be drowned out here and Damen urges Laurent around a corner, to the base of the palace where the wall is hidden behind the trees with no windows in sight.

 _They’ll be safe here_ , Damen thinks distantly as he takes in the way Laurent’s chiton has gone translucent and pale against the cream of his skin; the wet fabric clings to his torso and thighs, the bulge there lewdly visible along with every inch of muscle all the way up to his nipples, peaked in the sudden chill. And just like that all thoughts of courtiers and treachery are slammed straight out of his head.

Laurent looks up at him, coy, and skims a hand along the front of his chiton. “Well what are you waiting for? A written invitation? I have been given a staggering amount of sun thistle from what I can tell and I don't have all day.”

Damen is on him faster than conscious thought, grabbing him by the hips and flipping him face first into the wall, and the stone must be harsh against Laurent’s hands as he scrabbles for leverage, but he only moans and spreads his legs wider, spine curving out in a way that makes Damen shove at his chiton, needing him closer, _now_.

“That’s right, _right there_. That’s a good alpha, going to knot me right here against this wall, just the way I want,” Laurent purrs and some vague part of Damen’s mind knows he should probably feel insulted, but he _is_.

He’s going to knot Laurent, make him feel so good, he is, _he is_ , and he doesn’t even really realize he’s panting this into Laurent’s neck, a mantra, as he bites and licks at the smooth skin, greedy for his scent and taste all mixed up with rainwater and absolutely, overwhelmingly perfect.

"Well they've underestimated one thing for sure: you might fuck me, but I'm the only one you get to knot. _You are mine_ ," Laurent groans out, harsh between his teeth, "just as much as I'm yours. They could all watch for all I care."

Damen whimpers, brain addled, as his fingers press inside, Laurent still wet and open from Damen not four hours earlier before the feast.

“ _Now_ ,” Laurent hisses, rubbing himself back against Damen’s groin. “I’m ready. Need to feel you, need you to fuck me.”

Normally Damen would love taking his time, taking Laurent apart piece by piece until he’s nearly lost his mind in frustration, but between the sun thistle and the threat inherent in it, Damen can’t spare a thought from needing to mark Laurent, stamp himself across him, so wholly and all-encompassing he feels faint with it.

When he slides in, Laurent grins into the wall, face turned to one side to look up into the rain. “Mine, always mine,” he breathes. “Let them all see.”

 


End file.
